From Pain Sprouts Love
by Slutinski
Summary: From the poorer suburbs of Minnesota comes Logan Mitchell, an academically achieving senior at PWHS who wants nothing more to get away from his abusive foster family. Then comes Carlos Garcia, a overly aggressive bad boy of PWHS who has nothing more in mind than to shun the weak & overtake the powerless. So what happens when Carlos suddenly takes a liking to a certain scholar?
1. Chapter 1

From Pain Sprouts Love

**Author's Note**: Before you get started on working to read this story, I must warn you that I haven't watched BTR since Season 2 finished airing so I apologize if I have left out any new characters that have been introduced in the seasons after the Second Season. This is my first Cargan and BTR fanfic in a while so I do apologize if some of the stuff doesn't quite fit, but I will try to remember some of the things. Hope you guys will give this a chance and hopefully it'll satisfy your craving for Cargan, because mine just came back.

**Summary**: From the poorer suburbs of Minnesota comes Logan Mitchell, an academically achieving senior scholar at PWHS who wants nothing more to get away from his abusive foster family. Then comes Carlos Garcia, a overly aggressive bad boy of PWHS who has nothing more in mind than to shun the weak and overtake the powerless. So what happens when Carlos suddenly takes a liking to a certain scholar?

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Logan**

The pain. The inevitable pain of my everyday life that haunts me until I am dead. It's unbelievable to others that it is inevitable, but to me, it's real enough to say that I'm unable to avoid whatever's being thrown at me, whether it's a tomato or a large fist.

My home is where half of that pain originates from. I am an orphan, or was until my foster parents adopted me when I was ten years old. My father got into a car accident and passed away when I was five years old. For one year, my mother was in a state of depression and grief that became so serious she took her life because she was unfit to take care of her only child, feeling helpless and guilty for what she me put me through. My family, the real one, was perfect to me. We were in harmony, until the accident.

Now I live with my abusive and conniving foster parents who adopted me because they were infertile, or so they tell me. I still don't know what the real point of adopting is, but one thing is for sure: I want to just run away back to the orphanage where I came from. At least they knew how to feed me and take care of me.

I am now seventeen and a senior at the Palm Woods High School, a local Minnesota high school where you will meet your worst nightmares. That's where the other half of the pain comes from. Being alone at is enough, even when my parents are home, I still feel alone; unprotected; afraid; vulnerable. The same goes for school. Everyday, I am not only verbally attacked, but also physically abused by the jocks and bullies that are too tall and buff for me, slim and not above five-foot-seven, to take defend myself off from. No one ever bothers to aid me or send help because they're (1) too busy laughing at my humiliation to even bother calling even the secretary, and (2) they don't want to get involve with the likes of me.

Being the school scholar has one downside, and that is the downside of it all. And frankly, I wonder why I'm the most applicable target for all of these verbal slurs and physical abuse when there are other 'nerds' (I refuse to use that word again) who are just as good as me to be picked on. But sadly, the Fates are not on my side, nor will they ever be in the future. Karma just favors me even though I have done nothing wrong to anyone. But I guess that's what attracts me to hurtful people the most. It's the fact that I'm so innocent, so powerless, so... vulnerable, that they know I won't even bother to fight back even though I try to.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a life full of unhappiness.

**Mitchell Residence - 7:30 AM**

I get up, but it isn't without difficult. The bruises from last night's beating from my foster dad is fresh and painful. Last night, I came home about an hour late than I usually do (6 o'clock, when is that ever late?). He began complaining that I'm never doing anything to help out in the house, and even my foster mother thinks so. When in reality, I am the one doing the chores, cooking the meals, and not to mention taking care of them whenever they're too drunk to even lift a finger to wipe the drool off their chins. But whenever I fight back with reassurances, I get the fist.

"You never do anything in this house, you lazy little shit. You're making your mother suffer!" My foster dad yelled. His rising voice makes me cower in fear.

"I... i'm the one doing most of the work, sir," I reply in a soft tone. I have to refer to him as "sir" because he says it will be a disgrace to him if I call him "dad" or "father".

"Excuse me? What was that?" He questioned me as if he didn't hear what I just said. But the hovering fist being ready to punch my in the shoulder reassures the situation otherwise.

The night ended after the beating and after I went up to my room to sleep off the pain. I had taken pain pills just to relieve some of the pain and so that I would get a good night's rest.

My parents aren't home by the time I get downstairs after getting ready for school. I look around the house to make sure they aren't home. The living room is trashed with beer cans and empty plates filled with bread crumbs and half eaten steaks. The kitchen sink is filled with more dishes. I'll have to get to those when I get home, I can't be late for school.

The walk there isn't really long, it's just a ten minute walk. When I reach the entrance of the school, I walk into the main entrance and I am greeted with a not-so-crowded hallway with students snatching their books from their lockers. It's not the time for most students to come to school, but the people who are hear are the people who come early in order to avoid being fisted in the face from some of the jocks and verbally humiliated by the cheerleaders who think they're oh so fabulous that they don't even have to lift a finger to get inside your head.

Thirty minutes later, I'm seated at my first period class, head leaning against my pal as my elbow supports my arm. I'm staring at my book to avoid any looks as the students start pouring in. I glance up for a moment at my teacher, who gives me a sympathetic look that seemed to say, it's only another day of the rest of your life. It'll pass soon enough. I look down at my book, only for it to me pulled off the table by none other than Jett Stetson, the captain (or actually, tyrant seems like a more suitable word) of the basketball team. How he got there? From money.

I shut my eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh before I pick up my textbook from the floor, returning my attention towards the lesson, dismissing some of the rude whispers, chuckling, and whispering behind me; even the occasional spitball to the hair I try to ignore. There are times where Ms. Collins would turn her back to look at who's giggling and laughing, only to find it's the people behind me responsible for it. She sighs and sets down the chalk turning to face the class. The class groans, they know what this gesture means: another lecture.

"Ms., come on! Can you just finish the lesson so I can just get the fuck outta here?!" A voice from the right of me yells. I glance at him. Carlos Garcia, the school's (or actually the whole town's) bad boy, troublemaker, whatever you want to call him.

Before she starts the lecture, her gaze points to me with a calm and warm smile.

"Logan, why don't you take the rest of the class off? You deserve it," she surprisingly tells me. The class is silent for a moment as I'm grab my backpack and textbook as I walk (it isn't without difficulty because of my sore body) down the isle of rows, mouthing a 'thank you' to her as I exit out the nod. I see her nodding as a reply. Thank goodness she is one of the only two people in this school, or even in this world, who doesn't make me life a living hell. Just before I open the door, the class throws a fit. I hear people saying it's unfair to let me off the hook while the others have to sit there for torture, others throwing degrading slurs at me like I was a sack of meat and people couldn't wait to feast on me when the time is right, even the occasional trash throwing and Ms. Collins yelling for someone to clean that up after class or else she will have them held back for thirty minutes. I slowly make my way to the restrooms where I examine my body, lifting up my shirt to see the bruises on the areas where my ribcage is.

I look at myself in the mirror, looking as pale as ever. And my stomach growls with hunger. I remember that I skipped breakfast this morning, not because I was going to be late, but because my parents never had the motivation, or even the energy, to go grocery shopping which always leaves me to do it for them whenever they give me the money to get it.

The bell rings, and I hurriedly walk out of the bathroom, wincing quietly as I make my way to my next class that isn't far away, avoiding my previous classmates and their readily hurtful words to be spat onto my face.

**LUNCH, The Cafeteria - 12:15 PM**

Unlike most campuses around the state of Minnesota, our cafeteria is very enormous. It contains two floors and has the height of a gymnasium that is enough to hold most of the student body. The cool kids (the jocks, cheerleaders, rich kids) have the upper floor as something of a reserved territory for them. That's why most of the bottom floor is always crowded. There is always someone manning the stairs to the upper floor in case some band geek or stoner were to sneak pass onto the upper floor just because there's nowhere else to sit.

I'm seated at my usual lunch table, by myself. Camille Roberts, the only person I consider a friend even though we only talk on occasion, decided to ditch lunch today so she could drive out to the movie theater to catch the latest Iron Man movie.

My stomach is growling, and I've only eaten like two bites of my grilled cheese sandwich before I set it down. I frown, leaning back against my chair as I push the tray away from my view. I completely lost my appetite now that I remind myself that I'm alone once again.

* * *

**Carlos**

I really hate it whenever I'm held back in a class, and usually, I'm most likely to strangle the person who is responsible for that, especially when it makes me late for my next period. Logan Mitchell is the target of the day, once again. I clench my fists as I walk into the cafeteria with James and Kendall behind me. Although they reassure me that it's not that imbicile's fault I was late, I still should give him a piece of my fist.

I scan the cafeteria looking for Logan's table, and I spot him and I head for his table. So many things are flowing through my mind and I can feel my blood rushing to my head as I make my way passed people who I could care less if they fell over. I finally became twenty feet apart from him when I stop in my tracks. Is he... pale?

Usually whenever I see... uh... what's his name... something with an L. Leo? Nah, that's not it but anyway. Whenever I see him, he's usually looking okay, which is always a sign that he's fit to be pulverize by my fists of fury and punches of pulverization. I watch him for a moment as he shakily takes the sandwich close to his mouth, his face looking more hollow than usual, and he sets it down before pushing away his tray. What the fuck? Isn't he going to eat that? He looks like he's gonna die.

"Uh, Carlos? What are you doing?" Kendall's voice stops my thoughts before I realize that I'm just standing there and I catch... Leo? no, still not right, give me a quick glance before I see him cower behind his table in fear. That's right, he should be scared. But I decided to be easy on the poor bitch this time. Just this once. I slam my hand against the table, which shakes him with fear as he looks at me.

"Don't think you're gonna get away with what you did this morning in class," I say with a sour tone.

"Wh-what did I do?" He asks with a shaky voice.

"You let me late for my second period, dumbass!"

"Oh... I'm-I'm sorry..." He breaks eye contact with me, and the lighting reflects on his hollow cheeks. I hear James and Kendall murmur something behind me but I dismiss it.

"You better be fucking sorry. Next time, it's your face my hand will by slamming." I walk away from his table with James and Kendall following behind as we make our way up the steps to the higher floor, sitting at our usual table as I sit down and grumble. But James and Kendall make their own conversation.

"Dude, did you see the way Logan looks?" James asks Kendall with a curious tone.

Logan. His name is Logan.

"Fuck yeah, man. He looked like he hasn't eaten in days. His face is so hollow and pale!" Kendall replies with eagerness. Yeah, I noticed that, too. Logan looked pretty pale back there, another reason why I had to go easy on him. I only go for victims who looked strong enough to take what I give to them, but I'm not low enough to punch someone who looked like they were going to die in any second.

A pang on the floor followed by laughter catches our attention and we rush to the balcony of the upper floor to look what's happening down there. And sure enough, one of the jocks tripped over Logan who is covered with cheese, tomato sauce, and mustard with a side of lettuce on his cheek. He rushes out of the door immediately. I scoff, serves him right for making me late. But I just can't help but feel sorry for the kid looking pale and refusing to eat. Whatever, he'll probably be better tomorrow and that's when he'll get it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I hope that was a decent chapter for y'all to read! I know the whole Bad Boy Carlos and Nerd Logan is so cliche nowadays for Cargan high school fanfics, but I promise to make this one completely different in any possible way I can. Please review and thanks so much for reading. See you all in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**From Pain Sprouts Love**

**Author's Note**: Thank you to all who faved, followed, and reviewed the first chapter. I hope to try and stick with this story because it might be difficult to follow it as I might forget to add in details. I have many ideas inside my head as to where I'm going to take this story, and so many stories I've read so far, I don't think mine will be similar or at least I don't think it will be.

Like I said in the previous Author's Note, I'm going to try my best to make this one different even though the plot may sound the same as to the high school aspect, the abused Logan, and the bad boy Carlos. So hopefully I can do something to mend that unoriginal and make it original.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Carlos**

"Where the fuck is he?" I ask myself as I lean against my Porsche. James and Kendall are groaning behind me because I had to wake them up early just to get to Logan. Like I said, he isn't going to get away that easily. I practically had to endure detention yesterday after school! But I just left in the first thirty minutes out of the two hours I was supposed to be in there.

James groans again in irritation. "Did you really have to drag us into this? I need my fucking sleep, Carlos."

"James, you and your beauty sleep. I still think you're ugly as fuck."

"Fuck you, man."

"Will you two just shut up, you're giving me a migraine!" Kendall yells with an irritated voice. His voice sometimes cracks whenever he wakes up in the morning and hasn't had his breakfast, which he didn't.

I roll my eyes and continue to mind my own business as the two climb into the car to take a short nap. I look at the time on my Rolex. 7:15AM. Shouldn't he be coming already? Just wait when I get my hands on him and smack him around with my hand for making me wait. I don't even know why he comes so early. Who the fuck comes to school early in the morning? That's so not normal for even a nerd. Except he's more than a nerd. The psycho genius. Him and his fucking smart ass brain. And those brown chocolate colored eyes. And that annoying black spiky hair. And the way he fucking walks.

Wait, wait. Was I just thinking about how he looks? I shake my head to remove the thoughts out of my head, clearing my mind and focusing on the one thing that I came here for: to confront Logan. He should be fine by now, he probably went home and ate a huge meal so now he's probably strong enough to endure the pain I'm about to inflict on him.

7:30AM. Nope, not leaving.

7:40AM. Nope, still waiting. I'm starting to get impatient. I constantly tap the heel of my shoes against the paved parking lot out of habit as I get even more impatient.

7:50AM. "Dude," James yawns as he steps out of the car, "can't you just wait until lunch? It was just a fucking detention. Not a night in the jailhouse."

"Well, it fucking felt like it," I sternly reply.

I turn around from the Hood of my car and Kendall rolls his eyes. "Look, it's ten minutes before class. Are you going to be late again and risk it for another detention slip?"

I narrow my eyes at him, but some way Kendall was right. I grumbled in a low tone before crossing my arms, pressing the alarm button on my car keys to lock the first of my Porsche, stuffing them in my pocket after. "Fine, we're doing it at lunch."

* * *

**Ms. Collins' Class, World History - 8:30AM**

My eyes are practically glued to Logan's seat. I glance at the empty desk every minute or so, trying to figure out if he'd show up. Was he really that scared to face me? Well he should be. I'm the bad boy of this campus, heck even the whole state.

"... Argonauts, slaying the Trojan sea monster- Mr. Garcia!"

Ms. Collins voice brings me back into the classroom and I catch everyone's eyes focused on me. I look at her with a frustrated expression. "What?"

She places her hands on her hips. "Is there any particular reason that you have a sudden fascination over Logan's desk that is more important than the lecture?" She calmly yes coldly asks.

I narrow my eyes a little before turning away from her gaze, crossing my arms as I stare out the window. "No. Now just go back to teaching."

"Mhmm."

I look at everyone else whose gazes are still pointed to me. "The fucking you all looking at? Learn!" I say as I shove my hand forward in the direction of the teacher. They regain their consciousness and turn away, some with scared faces. That's right, better be scared.

Logan is nowhere to be seen at lunch. Not the cafeteria. Not the tutoring center. Not even the library. I had to harass the fuck out of Camille to tell me where he is, but apparently not even she knows where he is. She's been texting and calling his phone but after many tries, they all failed.

"When you see him," I told her, "tell him that I'm looking for him." I stormed off after that along with James and Kendall.

* * *

**Mitchell Residence - 2 Days later**

**Logan**

"Are you actually serious?!" I yell with a hoarse voice over the phone.

"Yes, Logan. He's been looking for you since Tuesday. And it's already Thursday. He's growing more and more impatient, and it's like he's worried or something."

Camille filled me in on everything that happened over the course of my absence from school. I came down with the flu and I just did not have any energy to even get out of my bed. My parents, probably being possessed by some miraculous angels, told me to stay home until I am feeling better enough to get back to my chores and do my stuff for school. This sucks. I have never broken my perfect attendance record. But after all the bruises and beatings I had endured, it just took my energy away enough to make me immobile from my bedroom, let alone my house.

I sigh in frustration, pinching the area between my eyes. "Why can't he just leave me alone? I didn't even do anything! I swear people are just looking for reasons to use me as their stress reliever as if I'm the punching bag of the school."

"I don't know, Logan. He just seems like he won't stop demanding me to tell you to come."

I cough on the line, grabbing my handkerchief to cover my mouth. After clearing my throat, I speak up again. "Fine. I'll go to school, but if he wants to meet then he's gonna have to come looking for me."

"Logan, he's gonna want to be the shit out of you even more."

I sigh, hanging my head. "What can I do Camille. Anyway, it's not like this is any different from the rest nor any other time I've been thrown into the lockers. I'll just have to endure it."

"Logan," she scolds me, "you can't be serious if you're still gonna let them walk over your feet! Fight back!"

"Camille, you know I can't do that."

"You and your no violence rule."

"Besides, they're all stronger and tougher than me. That's pretty obvious."

"Yeah, but you know what they don't have? A brain. If you can't attack them physically, get inside their head. "

"No, not ever again. I told you what happened last time I did that and it did nothing good for that boy or myself. I had to be stay in the principal's office with my family and his for hours just to resolve the conflict. He went into therapy!"

"But it was Wayne's fault, not yours."

"I know, but... I just don't like being manipulative. It won't make me any better than the cheerleaders who think they run the school by their mouths."

"Ugh, especially the Jennifers. Seriously, what group would want to have the same name as their best friends."

"I don't know. Don't even wanna bother with those perky sluts. And the fact they all slept with the same guy behind their backs and have too much air in their head to figure it out."

Camille sighs in defeat on the other line. "Okay, I have to go. My dad's taking me to the movies. He wanted me to invite you but due to your condition, I just told him you weren't feeling well."

"Thank you, Camille. Have fun with your dad, and don't tell me what happens in the movie because you have a long history of spoiling movies-"

"Alright, alright. Get better, GOODBYE!"

I chuckle as I hang up the same time she does. But then my rising mood drops ten stories below sea level as my mind wanders off to Carlos. Why does he keep looking for me when he can just wait or move on? There are other people to pick on, or am I just the main target everyone's out to get just because I have a safe history with life.

I always pray for an escape, but no matter where I run, no matter where I hide, even wherever I stand, danger or trouble finds it's way to me as if it's the Devil and he has a secret pact with me that he just won't let go. I'm always told by my mother, my real mother, that you must ever run away from the things being thrown at you. Be strong, stay strong, and endure it because eventually it will go away. I scoff at remembering it.

I don't think it's ever going to go away, mom. It never has, and never will.

I sigh, lying down and pulling the covers over me, switching the lamp light off as I drift away to a deep sleep.

* * *

**PWHS Campus, Lunch - 12:25 PM**

I feel completely and utterly weak. But I know that I can't feel weak anymore. If Carlos is waiting, then I'm going to face him.

But after two days of refusing to eat because of my illness, I look as pale as a vampire and as skinny as the cheerleaders, and that's at the level of anorexia. I walk, or actually I'm limping, towards the cafeteria in order to get to Camille. She sent me a text saying that him and his 'gang ' are waiting for me next to our table.

I can feel my stomach devouring itself, but I try to ignore it as I finally reach the front doors of the cafeteria. I look at the time on my phone. It's been twenty minutes since lunch started so most likely everyone is inside there. I suddenly feel my head getting light, with a slight feeling of nausea as I lean forward against the doors. I can feel my eyebrows creasing with annoyance and my blood pressure rising. Moment of truth. I open the doors and enter the cafeteria.

From a split second, the loud-mouthed and routy cafeteria falls dead silent like a cemetery. Camille gasps with worry and fear as she looks at me as I'm pale and unhealthy looking. I wrap an arm around my stomach as I struggle to keep from falling over. My knees are getting the better of me. I can feel them shaking as I'm ready to collapse. Before I do, I could see everyone's face. Some with worry, some with fear, some with disgust, but I'd never expect worry to come from Carlos. Camille is rushing to get through the silent crowd, but I give in. And I'm falling onto the vinyl flooring, and the last thing I hear are voices shrieking and yelling for help and the last thing I see is Camille running to my side along with another figure I can't make out. My vision turn s black and I fall unconscious.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Ooooooh, so Logan faints omg what will we ever do with him? Thought I'd end this chapter with a cliffhanger lmfao but I promise the next chapter will be just as juicy. I have a great idea about a future chapter that you guys are going to love. Let's just say that Logan is going to have a moment. Thanks to all who reviewed and read!


	3. Chapter 3

**From Pain Sprouts Love**

**Author's Note:** Hello hello, and welcome back to another chapter of From Pain Sprouts Love! I hope you guys liked that last chapter. I didn't mean for that to happen so early but I don't know what possessed me to write it down at that moment and think that it was perfect to show some worry. I ALSO DIDN'T INTEND TO MAKE LOGAN SICK BUT LOOK WHERE THAT GOT ME. I can't even with myself sometimes. Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

**Logan**

I can't remember most parts of my dream. The only parts I remember is when I bathing in a see of humility, with everyone laughing at me from above as I try to swim to the shore that keeps pushing itself away from me. Actually, come to think of it, I'd consider it a nightmare. The other part of the dream was being chased around by a group of gang members around my street asking me for money, which I refused to give. I remember that when I refused, they pinned me against the wall. And of course the dream just couldn't get any worse, but it did as Carlos approached me with a knife held to my stomach, demanding for me to give them cash. Since I didn't have any, and was telling the truth, they laughed and considered that I was lying. My eyes shoot open after Carlos stabs me in the stomach in my nightmare. I look around to find myself in a new surrounding.

I notice the metal counter with various needles and vaccines, some even inside of the see through cabinets in the corners of the room. I'm breathing heavily as I sit myself up, feeling a little bit weak but a bit better than I was before I fainted. I excepted Camille to be by my side, but what threw me off was that Carlos was sitting on the couch facing the hospital bed I was on. I'm looking straight into his dangerous and malicious eyes. I try to back myself off the bed but it's no use since I'm in a sitting up position. Doing this, he finds it amusing and chuckles.

"Chillax, kid. I'm not gonna stab your or anything."

I don't answer back. I have nothing to say, but I'm really curious as to see why he's here. In the room. With me. Like he's waiting for me or something.

He stands up and begins to walk towards the side of my bed before I thrust out a hand and stop him. "Stop, don't come any closer," I say with a hint of fear in my voice. I think it's the nightmare that influenced me to do this.

"Shut up, Jesus Christ," he exclaims with frustration as he pulls a chair from the nurse's desk over to the side of my bed. This is getting increasingly awkward. What in the world is the school's baddest boy, especially that some thinking he's a gangster, be here in the hospital room for a nerd and loser such as myself? This clearly goes beyond the boundaries of the social class system.

"What are you doing here?" I ask curiously, but then my voice turns stern. "Why are you here?"

"Hey, you should be thanking me, you little shit. I'm the one who dragged your ass into the nurse's office in the first place. So the least you could do is stop talking back to me! God, you're just like the fucking teachers, nagging and nagging."

I turn my head away. His words pierce me like a sharp knife. I know that I don't need an actual blade to be thrust into me to let me know how pain really feels, because sometimes, words can do so much worse. I turn my back to him as I lie back down onto the bed. I can hear him sigh behind me, his warm breath against my cold back.

"Look, Camille was the one who told me to stay here with you, alright?" He says with a slight hint of annoyance. I raise a brow and slowly turn to him, sitting back up against the bed.

"And you seriously listened to her?"

He scowls. "You know, your friend has a really smart mouth. If it weren't for her being a girl, I would've beaten her up. But, she's right about one thing."

"And what was that?" I ask as I cross my arms.

"Well I'm not gonna tell you. Ask her yourself if you're so curious to know."

I sigh with frustration. "Carlos, what are you really doing here? What are you doing here with me? I'm not your priority. I'm not your responsibility."

He stays silent as he leans back against the chair, our eye contact never breaking. "Just shut up and go back to sleep. School's almost over and I'll just drive you home. You look too weak to walk."

My reaction to this? Surprised. No, more than surprised. Shocked. Shocked because the reason why he's staying in the room isn't because Camille told him to out of force, but because he did it with his will to watch me and make sure that I am safe. I'm not his responsibility, but for some odd unknown reason to me, it seems like he wants to make it his responsibility. I study the room and I notice a bag of McDonald's sitting on the wooden counter on the opposite side of where Carlos is sitting. I lick my lips, and I guess he sees this and chuckles. "Go ahead, eat. That's yours anyway."

I hesitantly reach for the bag and open up to be greeted with an Angus Beef Mushroom and Swiss with a large french fries. I stare at it for a moment and turn my gaze to him. "Thanks."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah, don't get all touchy."

I let my eyes fall to the floor, and take out the large pack of french fries and pop a few into my mouth with manners, refusing to look at him. But I can tell with my peripheral vision that his eyes are locked on me, and it's starting to make me uncomfortable. It's like I'm his prey, and he is the predator, feeding me lots and lots of food until I'm stuff enough to be eaten for the main course. Although I'm grateful, this just doesn't feel right. Plus, I'm still afraid of this guy. He might just be doing this just so that he can feel better about himself and then go right back to beating me up the next day.

"Are you doing this just because you want to feel good about yourself?"

The question takes him by surprise. "What the hell? No, what gave you that idea?"

"Carlos, I refuse to get outsmarted. Having a dangerous bad boy of the school doing stuff like this with a nerd, especially when it's me, is rare and uncommon behavior. I'm starting to get a feeling that you're just doing this just so that you can relieve your guilt of gangin up on my in the past so that you can start off fresh the next day with new stuff to attack me with."

His face is pulsing, turning to the color of a tomato. I'm expecting him to meet me, and I cower back in fear as he stands up in an angry ray, sending the chair flying backward and tumbling onto the ground, his fists clenching as if he's about ready to take a swing and make a new bruise onto my face.

But he does nothing. All he does, is take a deep breath and exhale. I can practically hear his heartbeat slowing down, the blood in his head slowly starting to flow around again.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm stupid, just forget I said-"

"No."

"What?"

He takes the chair and sits back down, hands palming his face before he breathes out with frustration and leaning forward against his knees. "That's not why I feel guilty."

I stay silent, knowing there's more to it.

"Camille was blaming me for being the one to drag you to school when you were sick. And I didn't know that you were fucking sick. Why didn't you tell me that you were sick?"

Wait. Did I just hear that last part right?

"Why... w-why am i going to tell you if I'm ill or not?"

He blinks as if he had just realized what he just asked me. "Fuck, I'm sorry. Forget I said that last part. And if you tell anyone about that, I'm going to leave a bruise on your arm."

As if on cue, my hand presses itself against my upper arm, wincing in pain as I feel the still fresh bruise that my foster dad gave me the night before. Carlos furrows his eyebrows reaching in like he wants to examine my arm, but I turn away and pull my sleeve more down.

"Let me see!"

"What? No! Carlos, stop-"

He grabs my wrist and throws it out of the way as he uses his other hand to lift up the sleeve of my shirt. It's as if his mood went into sudden overdrive because he looks like he's about to go out and kill the nearest person in the hallways. His breathing is irregular and I can tell he's trying to control it, to calm down. "Who did this to you?" He demands with concern in his voice. I lean away from him and turn away, pulling my sleeve down even though his hand it still in the way. He yanks me back to him. "I said, Who. Did. This. To. You?"

"Carlos, stop! You're-" I'm struggling against his hold, "you're hurting me."

"Tell me. Now."

"I manage to yank my arm with a wince as I look at him with anger. "You really wanna know who did this? Half the school's population, that's who! You, your gang friends-"

"Logan-"

"The school bullies, and on occasion-"

_"Logan-"_

"Even the gym teacher when he's pushing me because I can't run fast enough. So stop asking me when you know the obvious!"

He pulls me into an unexpected hug and I have the urge to break down into his chest. I don't hug back because frankly I don't know how to respond, but I just quietly sob into his black chest tight shirt. For some odd and weird reason, I don't know... I just feel... um... protected... in his arms. He closes the space between us and I can feel the heat radiating from his body as if he's the sun. I sniff a couple of times, wanting to wipe away the falling tears but his embrace is too tight for me to let my hands reach in.

And Camille bursts through the door to see me sobbing into a hugging Carlos.

"You!" She yells. Carlos moves away from me. "What did you do? What did you do to him?"

"What the fuck, nothing-"

"Camille," I say, regaining my composure. I take a napkin to wipe my face and blow out my nose. "It's okay."

She sends him a death glare and comes forward next to my bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better, I think."

"Why did you come to school? You knew how weak you were and yet you were stupid enough to come."

I glance behind her at Carlos, who knows the reason why I came to school even though I was utterly ill. But I ricochet with a different answer. "I just couldn't afford to miss another day of school."

She nods as she believes me, and gives me a hug. I hug her back and the glance at Carlos, who's standing there watching the both of us like he's in envy or something. She pulls back.

"I'm gonna take you home okay?" She asks.

"Uhh...Sure-"

"_I'm_ taking him home. And that's final," Carlos demands behind Camille. She turns and crosses her arms with sass.

"And who are to be, his mother?"

"For a weak girl like yourself, you sure got the nerve to talk back to me."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, I'm not scared of you."

"_I'm taking_. Him home. And. That's Final." With every word he steps closer and getting into her face like nobody's business, and I can tell she's getting scared She scoffs.

"Fine, have it your way. But mark my words, Garcia. If I find him lying on the street the next morning, you'll find your own knife at your throat."

I'm appalled yet surprised at what she threatens Carlos. Not even I would even dare threaten a person so dangerous such as Carlos. He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, I'm not even like that. So shut the fuck up, and let me take care of it."

"He's not your responsibility."

"I'm the one who forced you to tell him to come in the first place so shut up and let me take him home. For God's sakes, it's not like I murder people whenever someone's in my car."

She glares at Carlos for a few moments before turning back to me. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I- yeah... I think so."

"Be careful. But I don't think you need me telling you that. And don't come tomorrow, you need to stay home and get better." She gives me another hug and a quick glare at Carlos before she grabs her bag and leaves the room.

Carlos scratches the back of his head before turning to me, letting out a breath. "So, are you feeling better enough to stand or do you have to make me carry you to my car? Cause I'm not letting anyone see that."

"I can walk," I say as I sit up on the edge of the bed, standing up to make sure that I'm not as weak as I look. I keep balance and grab the bag of McDonald's before heading towards the door, before Carlos stops me and has his hand blocking the only exit in the room.

"Wait, the nurse has to give you the note."

Oh yeah, I completely forgot about that. And as if right on cue, she comes in with her clipboard, flipping through pages. "Okay, Logan. So, how are you feeling?" She asks as she looks at me.

"I'm... feeling a bit better than before." I walk away from Carlos over to the nurse. She places the back of her hand on my forehead and then onto my neck.

"Hmm, well you don't have any signs of fevers or anything. Have you eaten anything the past two days?"

The jig's up. "No."

"Well then no wonder why you fainted. You haven't eaten or even drank anything! Logan, this is not like you."

"I know. I'm- I'm sorry."

"Here," she gives me a bottle of painkillers, "that should help your slight headache. Camille said it looked like you hit your head pretty hard."

Now that she mentioned it, I do feel a pulsing pain in the right side of my forehead. Gosh, I must've looked like a complete idiot then. I grab the bottle of painkillers and apologetically smile at the nurse. "Thank you."

"If you eat enough tonight at dinner, then I think you should feel fine by tomorrow. And make sure that you eat until you're full. It'll make up for lost time of when you didn't eat."

I nod in understanding. "Yes, I will make sure. Thank you, ma'am."

"Have a nice night, you two..." She glances at Carlos with a curious face. She's probably wondering that out of all people to have in the room with me and waiting for me, it's the baddest boy on campus waiting for the nerd to see if he's okay. Oh this is probably going to be a hit story in the teacher's lounge for a long time.

We exit the nurses office, and it takes me a minute to gather in that it's already passed sundown. Oh no, my parents are going to freak. I hope that the nurse called my parents and tell them about the situation. Hopefully they'll go easy on me tonight. And hopefully I can survive tonight without starving or having any fresh bruises to bring to show and tell Camille tomorrow. I seriously need to learn how to hide things from her more better. She's practically Sherlock on my case.

The drive to my house is silent, and frankly, I'm nervous for Carlos to see my house. I live on the pooper side of the suburbs near the school and it's something I'm not proud of. Although my house is a two-story, the way it looks is as if someone came with a wrecking ball and tipped it leaving cracks and marks all around. Basically it just looks like it's going to fall apart. I give him directions on where to go and for some reason I can tell he's surprise as to where those directions lead to. We pull up at my house and I remove my seat belt, trying to get out of the car as fast before he stops me by placing a hand onto my chest.

"Wait."

I stop myself and just sit there, refusing to look at him.

"Why don't... you just eat at my place?"

"Excuse me?"

"Look, Logan. We both know that you're not able to support your own self, let alone your family. At least let me feed you before you come home. I'd feel a lot less guilty and you'd feel much better after dinner at my place."

"Carlos, what you're doing... is nice. But, think about how that'll look to the whole school. To your parents! And your friends?"

"I don't fucking care. God, sometimes I just wanna slap them in the face for all I care. Are you coming or not?"

It takes me awhile to process the possibilities of what might go wrong if people see me on the wrong side of the tracks. Will people be talking about it at school tomorrow? Are people going to think I'm using Carlos when actually he's the one who's insisting? People have ways to turn stories upside-down. And I know that Carlos is going to agree with some story that involves me forcing him to feed me and demanding him to be dropped to my house.

"Fine, but... just this once. I don't feel comfortable doing this."

He rolls his eyes as I put my seat belt back on, and he shifts the gear and drives away from the street. "Just shut up and deal with it. I'll handle whatever comes tomorrow."

"Just out of curiosity..." He glances at me, "why are you doing this for me? I could've just gone with Camille and eat at her place."

It takes him awhile to respond before he shrugs. "I don't know," he mumbles, "still trying to figure that out."


End file.
